


take care of you

by Le_Tournesol



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fainting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, do not compete in a beef while sick it is a Bad Idea, minor injury, protective!Langa, sick!reki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_Tournesol/pseuds/Le_Tournesol
Summary: Reki gets caught in the rain and then somehow fails to notice that he's gotten sick.Langa worries and looks after him.
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 20
Kudos: 448





	take care of you

**Author's Note:**

> bc I had to write a sickfic also why are titles so hard

Langa can’t quite stifle the yawn that crawls up his throat. It makes his eyes squint and his jaw crack, and he rubs at his eyes the same way Nanaka does when she’s tired. 

Reki, who is carrying a box in from the stockroom, doesn’t miss the display. 

“You should head home,” Reki says as he drops the stack of vinyl decals next to the display case. “Seriously. You look exhausted.”

Langa frowns. It’s tempting. “S” has certainly done a number on his normal sleep schedule, but Reki looks just fine as he starts arranging stickers. “You must be tired, too,” Langa says, looking closely for shadows under Reki’s amber eyes. 

Reki shrugs, “I don’t sleep well anyway. I’m used to it.” 

“You don’t seem to have any trouble sleeping in class,” Langa points out.

Reki shoots him a dark look before he grins and ruffles Langa’s hair, “Really. Go home. I’ll finish up for the night.”

Langa hesitates, “Are you sure?”

Reki sighs and rolls his eyes before he drops his hands on Langa’s shoulders and pushes him toward the glass doors, “Yes, I’m sure. Go get some sleep. We’ve got ‘S’ tomorrow night.”

Pursing his lips, Langa nods and gathers up his stuff. Reki waves him off, and a moment later he hears the engine of the little scooter purr to life and then putter away.

Reki’s shoulders droop. 

The evenings pass so much more slowly when he’s on his own. Reki exhales heavily before he digs his phone and earbuds out of his pocket and tunes into some mindless playlist. He gets to work unpacking merchandise and labeling sale items, and he works himself into a good flow. 

In fact, it may have been _too_ good of a flow because when he finally stretches and looks up at the clock, it’s nearly midnight. 

_Oops_.

Normally it wouldn’t be too big of a deal. It doesn’t take him too long to get home on his board, and the neighborhood isn’t particularly dangerous. 

Unfortunately, a glance out the window shows him that it’s started raining pretty heavily at some point. 

_Damn._

He’s not got a rain slicker or an umbrella, and he’s definitely not going to ruin his board by riding it through the rain. 

There’s nothing to be done for it now though. 

Popping the joints in his knuckles, Reki tidies up the shop, turns off the lights, and steps out front to lock up. 

Within minutes, he’s drenched. 

His hoodie is sodden, and his hair hangs limply in his face. He takes off his headband and winds it up to use to pull his hair back. Even his sneakers are soaked, and it’s a cold rain that doesn’t pair well with the chilly air. Reki hunches in on himself and trudges through puddles back to his house on autopilot.

For once he takes the front door into the house, and he immediately starts dripping all over the floor. Quickly and quietly he sheds his clothing down to his boxers and carries the wet bundle to the washer, where he tosses it all. 

And then he collapses into bed.

Reki shivers. 

He knows he should take a shower or drink something hot to warm up, and he definitely knows he should at least dry his hair. But he’s more tired than he realized. He doesn’t get under the covers so much as he pulls them around himself and hunkers down until even his face is obscured.

And in spite of his discomfort he drifts off swiftly into sleep. 

Reki sleeps hard, but not restfully. He’s groggy and slow, and he wakes up late enough that if he showers he’ll miss Langa. 

The house is unusually quiet for such a large family. In the kitchen, he finds a note from his mother reminding him that she was taking the twins to visit family out of town, and Tsukihi was staying with a friend. Reki wrinkles his nose. He had completely forgotten, and now there wasn’t any time for him to pack his own bento. 

Moreover, breakfast feels like too much effort, so he skips it. 

He’ll figure something out later. 

The day is gray and overcast, the sidewalks are still too damp for skating, but mercifully it isn’t raining.

At first. 

A sprinkle of rain begins right when he’s about halfway to his meeting place with Langa, so he pulls his hood over his head and shuffles along with his hands in his pockets. 

He knows this route by rote, so he’s barely paying attention to where he’s going. 

And then the rain suddenly stops.

But only around him. 

Reki blinks.

Langa smiles as he holds his umbrella over the both of them, “Good morning.”

Reki musters up a grin and slaps their hands together before he bumps their fists. 

Something about Langa just makes him feel a little lighter.

In spite of the gloomy early morning, the sun emerges before the end of homeroom, and the clouds quickly dissipate, which means “S” will still be on tonight. By lunchtime, the roof is completely dry, so they park themselves in their usual spot. The air is still a little cool, but Reki doesn’t mind. He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, and he thinks he must doze off because suddenly Langa is gently shaking his shoulder.

Reki blinks.

Langa’s brow wrinkles, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Reki answers around a yawn, and then he shivers. 

Langa shifts closer until their shoulders are touching, “Are you cold?”

Reki nods, “But it’s fine.” 

Langa looks at him expectantly and then pointedly looks at his own lunch, “You’re not going to eat?”

“I’m not really hungry.”  
“Did you have a big breakfast?”

“Mmm,” Reiki says noncommittally. He slouches further into his hoodie, but then he offers Langa a chagrined smile. “Sorry. I got home kind of late last night.”

Unexpectedly, Langa grimaces, “Because of me.”

It’s not a question.

“No, no,” Reki waves him off. “I just lost track of time.”

Langa doesn’t seem soothed. 

“Besides you look a lot better today,” Reki continues.

 _And you look worse,_ Langa thinks to himself. Aloud, he says, “If you take a nap, I’ll wake you before the bell.”

Reki looks like he’s going to object, but then slumps backward and pulls his headband over his eyes, “Sounds good.”

Langa sucks lightly at his teeth and watches him, but he doesn’t press. Reki’s breathing soon slows as he relaxes into sleep, and he’s almost tucked into Langa’s side now.

A faint blush dusts Langa’s pale face. He coughs and looks away, takes a swig of water, and barely reacts other than the widening of his eyes when Reki leans fully against him with his head coming to rest on Langa’s shoulder. 

Reki is slow to rouse when their lunch period ends, and Langa insists he at least get something to drink from the vending machines before their next class starts. Reki pokes a few coins through the slot and presses a few buttons. He’s not even sure what he buys. 

He winces when he takes a drink. 

“Not good?” Langa asks.

The drink is fine, though, if something he wouldn’t typically pick. No, it’s his throat, which is suddenly sore and scratchy. He keeps that to himself though and chugs the rest of it, hoping the liquid will soothe the pain now that he’s aware of it. 

The rest of the day drags on, and Reki spends more time staring out the window than paying attention or doodling. 

The bright lights of the classroom are starting to make his head hurt, but he tries to ignore it and watches the clock tick the day away. He’s got “S” to look forward to tonight, and he might as well invite Langa to sleep over since he’s on his own tonight. Plus there isn’t school tomorrow. He just has to get through one more class. 

By the time the teacher dismisses them, the headache has gotten so bad he sort of wants to just curl up and try to sleep it off. His throat has only gotten worse, and even his nose feels stuffy. 

He stumbles when he stands up, and Langa catches him by the elbow to steady him. Reki flashes a smile and sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. 

Before Langa can ask him if he’s all right, Reki blurts, “Wanna sleepover tonight?” 

“Uhh,” Langa says, caught off guard by the question, “Sure.”

“Great!” Reki beams and slaps him on the shoulder and leads him out of the building. Reki wobbles once when he steps on his board, but brushes off Langa’s concern with a joke. As they skate, Reki explains that his mom and sisters are all away, and they make their plans for the evening. Langa will head home for dinner with his mother and to grab his stuff for the weekend, and then they’ll meet at the flower shop and catch a ride with Shadow. 

They split apart when Reki makes a right and Langa continues straight, and Reki is excited for what the weekend will bring, even if the pain in his throat is now accompanied by an annoying tickle.

Reki spends two hours working at Dope Skate and then keeps himself busy at home with tuning up his board. He works up more of a sweat than he expects, and he finally manages to take that shower he’s been missing. 

When it’s far past time for dinner, he still has no appetite, and everything in the house seems sort of nauseating. 

But it’s a bad idea to skate on an empty stomach, so he chokes down a few bites of noodles in a hot broth, which soothes his throat, and then he takes off for the flower shop.

By the time he gets there, he’s sweating _again,_ which is weird, and the tickling sensation in his throat has become a full blown cough.

Briefly, Reki wanderers if maybe he’s getting sick, but then the door to the shop bursts open, light spills onto the street, and Miya puts a hand on his hip and pouts, “You’re going to make us late.” 

Reki throws up his hands in a placating gesture, “Sorry!” 

Miya rolls his eyes, “Shadow! Langa! Reki’s here! Let’s go!”

They pile into the little pink sedan and take their usual places: Shadow driving; Miya riding shotgun; Reki and Langa together in the backseat. 

It doesn’t take long for the banter to start up, and it’s enough to drag Reki into the conversation and out of the strange funk he’s been in all day, which further convinces him that he’s not actually sick. Even his headache seems to dissipate enough to ignore. 

The first few heats of the night put on a good show, but as it gets later Reki feels himself listing again. 

The cough is getting more pronounced, especially while he’s cheering for Langa, though he manages to hide it.

Belatedly, Reki notices that he feels sort of lightheaded, and he wonders if maybe a few bites of ramen wasn’t quite enough to fuel an entire day and skating. 

Before he can consider it too much, Miya stalks over to him and interrupts his train of thought.

“Are you moping?” 

“Hmm? No?” 

Miya shakes his head like he’s not convinced but doesn’t care enough to look closer, “Shadow’s gonna challenge you to a beef. He thinks someone saw him getting out of the pink car. He says you’re going to ruin his image.”

“You rode with us, too.”

Miya shrugs, “You started it. Plus you call him an old man.” Miya smiles like the Cheshire Cat, “Besides being seen with me won’t hurt his image. But getting out of the car with a Slime?”

Before Reki can counter, Shadow stomps up to him to make good on Miya’s prediction. Reki tries to muster up some energy, but it feels forced. Shadow lays out the terms of the beef: If Shadow wins, Reki’s gotta find his own way home; if Reki wins, Shadow will essentially be his taxi service for the next month.

Reki isn’t one to back down, and frankly the idea of walking or skating home tonight sounds exhausting. 

They head for the starting line, and Reki wobbles on his board noticeably enough to make Shadow laugh. 

Langa frowns.

Narrowing his eyes, Langa inspects the redhead, who is covered in a light sheen of sweat and visibly out of breath. The race hasn’t even started yet, and he’d barely skated all evening. 

Something is wrong.

And then the light turns green, and they’re off. 

Langa grabs his board.

Miya raises an eyebrow, “Where are you going?”

Langa doesn’t answer. He just follows at a distance and vaguely hears Miya’s outraged, “Hey!”

Ahead, Reki and Shadow glide down the mountainside.

Shadow glances back at his rival, who is already lagging behind, and taunts, “You’re slow today, Red. Are you even trying?”

Reki’s vision swims, but he pushes through it and shifts his body into a more aerodynamic position in order to skate faster. 

“Finally going to take this seriously?” Shadow grunts, but Reki can barely hear him over the rust of blood in his ears. Shadow is laughing, “I’m starting to think you enjoy coming in second place.” 

Somehow everything is too loud and too bright but muted, and it’s nauseating. His sight is going bizarrely cloudy. His body feels like it’s not responding. 

His head throbs.

 _Fuck,_ Reki thinks belatedly. _Fuck._

There’s a sharp turn coming up, and he knows he’s not going to make it. 

“Reki!” 

Langa?

Langa is screaming his name.

The boulder is getting closer and closer.

Reki’s head spins, his knees buckle, and the ground is rising to meet him.

He’s unconscious before his knees slam into the dirt. 

Langa’s heart is in his throat. 

Reki wipes out _hard_ and goes down like a rag doll, like a puppet with its strings cut. He buckles, his board goes flying, he lands on his chin. 

He doesn’t get back up.

He doesn’t so much as twitch. 

“Reki!”

“Oh _shit!”_ exclaims Miya, who had followed out of curiosity.

Langa gets to Reki’s side so fast he may as well have teleported. 

Reki is still and quiet, and Langa hates it because Reki is always in motion, gesticulating wildly or fidgeting or thinking out loud. 

He crouches next to Reki’s prone form and carefully rolls him onto his back. Langa winces.

Reki’s chin is busted open and bloody and the knees of his pants are torn through. 

“Reki?” he asks. Why is he unconscious? Langa didn’t see him hit his head, but it’s not impossible.

Desperate to do anything, Langa’s hands move of their own accord. They flutter before landing in Reki’s hair, like he’s going to check for an injury, but then he notices the _heat_ coming off of him. 

Langa smoothes Reki’s bangs away from his face and then places the back of his hand against Reki’s forehead, cups his palm against his cheek.

He’s burning up.

Langa swears in English. 

Miya skids to a halt next to them, and even Shadow has stopped the race to find the source of the commotion.

“What’s wrong with him?” Miya demands.

“I think he passed out,” Langa replies absently as he takes Reki’s wrist between two fingers and feels his pulse. It’s fast, but that could just be the race. “He’s sick.”

“What?” Shadow exclaims. 

“He’s really sick,” Langa corrects himself. He springs into action and gets an arm around Reki’s back and under his knees before lifting him to cradle against his chest. Reki’s head lolls against his shoulder.

“Shadow, we need the car,” Langa commands.

Shadow nods with a solemn face, “I’ve got a first aid kit in the trunk.”

Miya grabs their abandoned boards.

Faintly, Reki groans against Langa’s collar.

“Reki? Are you awake?” Langa asks urgently.

“Ngh,” Reki murmurs. 

Langa carries him to the parking lot, and Shadow holds up the door to the backseat. Langa sits him down, but he slumps immediately so Langa crawls in beside him to support him. 

“Hey,” he says. “C’mon. Wake up.”

Shadow produces the promised first aid kit, and Langa takes the disposable thermometer and presses it between Reki’s chapped lips. 

He waits for it to beep. 

_39.4C/103F_

Too high. 

Langa digs through the individually wrapped pill packets for a fever reducer, which he eventually finds. 

“There’s a bottle of water in my bag,” Langa tells Miya, who fetches it without complaint.

“Open your mouth,” Langa insists before placing the medicine on his tongue, and then he holds the water to his lips to help him drink. “Swallow,” Langa urges. “Swallow.” 

When Reki complies, Langa sighs. 

Langa pours out some of the water on a clean piece of gauze and starts wiping the blood and gravel from Reki’s chin before disinfecting the wound and covering it with antibiotic ointment and a plaster. He does the same for his shredded knees.

The last thing he needs is to develop an infection while his immune system is already taxed. 

“You’re good at this,” Miya comments.

“My mom is a nurse,” Langa says without looking away from his task. He’s got a fresh piece of gauze now that he soaks with the remainder of the water, wrings out, and then uses to wipe the sweat from Reki’s face and bring down his fever.

Reki coughs weakly, but he seems to be coming around. 

“Why didn’t you say something, kid!?” Shadow shouts, and Reki winces. 

Softly, Langa asks, “When did you start feeling badly?”

Reki makes a thoughtful noise, “Maybe this morning?” 

Langa thinks of the nap Reki took on his shoulder during their lunch, the meal he skipped, and his unsteadiness of his feet. 

Fuck. Reki had obviously been coming down with something, and he didn’t even notice. 

“Can you give us a ride back to his house?” Langa asks. 

Shadow nods and climbs into the driver’s seat. Miya takes shotgun and casts furtive little glances back at them periodically. 

When the car pulls away and hits a bump, Reki cringes. 

Shadow’s eyebrows go up, “Is he going to puke in my car?”

Langa ignores him, “You need to lie down.” 

Carefully, he helps Reki get horizontal and lets him rest his head on his thigh. Reki curls onto his side and buries his face in Langa’s stomach. 

Langa rubs soothing circles with his thumb against the base of Reki’s skull.

Between the wipeout and the typical aches that come with sickness, he’s going to feel like shit tomorrow. 

“What have you eaten today?” Langa asks.

Reki mumbles into Langa’s shirt, “Some noodles.”

“So you didn’t eat a big breakfast?”

Reki shakes his head and nuzzles closer. He shivers. “S’cold.”

“It’s the fever,” Langa tells him. He sheds his own jacket and drapes it over Reki, who’s quickly progressed to trembling. His teeth chatter. “You’ll be home soon.”

“K,” Reki murmurs. 

The rest of the ride is unusually quiet for such a boisterous group. 

“Are you sure he doesn’t need the hospital?” Miya asks. 

“He’ll be fine as long as his fever comes down,” Langa says. Affectionately, he pushes a hand through Reki’s sweaty hair. “He just overdid it. He needs food and fluids and rest.” 

Shadow snorts at the last word, “Good luck with that one, Snow.”

“Idiot,” Miya adds as he studies Reki, but there’s no heat to it. 

Langa rouses Reki once they arrive, and Reki clutches at his head when he sits up. 

And then, of course, he tries to insist that he’s fine. 

Langa gives him a hand up out of the car and hovers closely enough to catch him when he pitches forward. 

“Sorry,” he coughs, but Langa ignores the apology in favor of swiftly and efficiently getting Reki onto his back with his hands under Reki’s knees.

“Lan- _ga_ ,” Reki whines. “I can walk.” 

“You can’t even stand,” Shadow quips.

“You also tried to do an ‘S’ race with a fever, so your judgment isn’t exactly sound,” Miya points out. Shadow nods in agreement. Langa hikes Reki further up his back while Shadow gets the front door open. He asks if they need anything before they leave and tells Langa to call if Reki gets worse.

And then they’re alone.

Langa deposits Reki onto the couch. Reki tucks himself into a ball. 

Langa shakes his shoulder and arranges the pillows so he can sit up and lean against them, “You can’t go to sleep yet. You need to drink something and eat something.”

“M’fine,” Reki says with his face smashed into a pillow, which really betrays his words. Langa pulls the Afghan off the back of the armchair and spreads it over his friend. 

Langa finds a bottle of Gatorade and a pack of crackers in the pantry. When he returns, he’s armed with those supplies, tissues, throat lozenges, a thermometer, a wash cloth, and a bottle of water.

Reki is listing against the arm of the couch. Langa sits the tray on the coffee table. The contents rattle, which gets Reki’s attention. 

Looking at the impressive spread, Reki reluctantly takes the Gatorade and twists the top off with a snap before sipping at it. 

Langa nudges the packet of crackers toward him, but Reki just wrinkles his nose 

“You were awesome tonight,” Reki says instead of eating. His voice is hoarse, but Langa can tell he’s trying to muster his usual enthusiasm. He grins faintly and winks, “Awesome, but reckless.”

Langa shrugs and doesn’t bother pointing out who was most reckless tonight. 

“Are you trying to distract me?” Langa arches an eyebrow and snags a cracker. He waves it in  
Reki’s face before he eats it. 

“No!” Reki declares before his gaze drops, and he picks at a loose thread on the blanket. “You should’ve let Shadow take you home, too.”

This sudden change in tone catches Langa off guard, “Huh?”

“I just mean... I know I invited you to sleepover, and you said yes, but that was before I was sick. You don’t have to stay tonight.”

“You’d be alone,” Langa remarks. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, I just don’t want to bother you....”

Langa doesn’t know how to explain that he would rather be here with Reki, taking care of him, than anywhere else in the world right now because he _always_ prefers to be with Reki.

Langa blushes and covers his mouth with his hand, and then he drums up some resolve. Now is not the time to sort through the myriad of _feelings_ he gets around his best friend, like how his heart beats harder when Reki turns the full force of his smile on him.

Instead, Langa says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And then he holds out the sleeve and tells him to eat the crackers.

Once Langa is satisfied that Reki isn’t going to faint due to hunger or fever, he asks, “Do you want to rinse off?”

“Ugh,” Reki groans. “No. Yes. I feel gross. But I want to go to sleep.” Reki’s grimy with sweat and dirt and dust from the track. “Yeah. Okay.”

Langa helps him off the sofa and waits until he hears the pipes running to grab a pair of pajamas from Reki’s drawer. He cracks the door open and sits the bundle on the counter before he retreats to change into his own. 

Reki toddles into the room a few minutes later with his shirt on inside-out, and his hair dripping. 

And then he plants himself face first onto his bed, “M’so tired. And cold.”

Langa grimaces and yanks the towel off Reki’s shoulders and tosses it over his head, “You’re cold because you didn't dry your hair. You’ll make yourself worse.”

When Reki only grumbles, Langa sighs and deals with it himself. He rubs the towel vigorously over the red strands until they’re no longer totally saturated. The friction makes Reki’s typically messy hair outright fluffy. 

Langa laughs.

“Mmph?” Reki turns his face to the side and fixes him with a look that is both disgruntled and confused.

 _Cute,_ Langa thinks. He twists a finger around a lock of that soft red hair. 

“We should take your temperature again before you go to sleep,” Langa says as he absently weaves his fingers through Reki’s hair. 

“I didn’t expect you to be a mother hen,” Reki says tiredly. The effort it takes to get out an entire sentence makes him start coughing. Langa thumps him on the back to loosen the mucus. 

To be fair, Langa also didn’t foresee himself effectively fulfilling the role of caretaker, but it comes easily with Reki. 

Everything comes easily with Reki. 

He thinks of Reki patching him up while teaching him to skate, the way he gently cleaned wounds and smoothed bandages over torn skin, the praise and encouragement that rolled off his tongue, the promise that _really, Langa, you almost had it._ He thinks of the put upon huff of breath that comes any time Langa hurts himself doing something particularly stupid or insane in the name of chasing adrenalin, and how Reki always fixes him up anyway. 

But Langa doesn’t know how to put all that into words, so he just shrugs and says, “Open your mouth.” 

_39.05C/102.3F_

Better, but not great. He can have another fever reducer in two hours, so Langa sets an alarm on his phone. He wets a cloth in the bathroom, folds it, places it on Reki’s forehead. 

With a little bit of prodding, Reki gets under the covers while Langa arranges the futon on the floor for himself. 

“Wake me if you feel worse,” Langa tells him.

“K,” Reki answers. Somehow Langa knows not to trust the authenticity of that response, which means he’ll have to keep an eye out. 

He settles down to go to sleep, but he’s too attuned to Reki, who is shifting and rolling around above him.

Reki sniffles, coughs, shivers, whines softly.

“What’s wrong?” Langa asks from his spot on the floor. The sound of his best friend’s discomfort grates on him, and Langa knows it will only get worse before it gets better, especially when tonight’s injuries decide to make themselves felt. 

“Still c-cold,” Reki says. He punctuates the statement with the sound of chattering teeth. “Can’t I have another blanket?”

“You’ll make your fever worse,” Langa says. He feels badly, but it’s true. 

Reki shuffles, grabs a tissue, coughs into it, groans, and then burrows further into the blankets.

But he doesn’t fall asleep.

And Langa knows it because he can hear each miserable little sound that comes from him. 

When the digital clock indicates that it’s been more than twenty minutes and Reki still isn’t asleep, Langa sits up. 

“Scoot over,” Langa says.

“Hmpf?” Reki asks. 

There are tissues all over the bed, which is gross, so Langa just sweeps his arm out and knocks them onto the floor. 

And then he settles himself onto the bed. 

Reki seems like he’s going to ask what Langa is doing, but then he notices the warmth that comes with his presence. 

_Oh,_ his eyes close. He snuggles into Langa’s side without missing a beat. Langa patiently waits for Reki to get comfortable before wrapping an arm around him and drawing him closer.

“Better?”

“Better,” Reki mumbles. “Thank you.”

Belatedly, Langa wonders if cuddling your best friend is weird, but it just feels natural. They’ve always been tactile, and Reki never hesitates to literally launch himself into Langa’s space; hugging him, napping on his shoulder, crawling into his lap, pressing their faces together, like one is just an extension of the other. 

And now Reki is relaxing into his embrace, a relieved if wheezy sigh brushing over Langa’s skin where Reki’s head is pillowed on his shoulder.

Langa gives him a little squeeze.

He realizes that he might not know to say _I love you_ yet, but he thinks when he’s ready, Reki will probably already know. 

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm not super happy with it and kind of disappointed bc I've been working on this for DAYS and now I feel kind of :/ but I don't think that'll change any time soon... and I'm determined to get this out before episode 9. I may come back and add a second chapter at some point. 
> 
> Totally hoped to finish this last night and I FELL ASLEEP hahaha. 
> 
> Also idk what Langa's mom does for a living but I ran with nurse. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos give me SEROTONIN and are ALWAYS appreciated.
> 
> [come fangirl w me on Tumblr](https://sunflower-le-tournesol.tumblr.com)


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